


she's got eyes comparable to sunrise

by ElasticElla



Series: follower milestone ficlets [19]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Relationships, F/F, Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 14:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15245529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: Clary opens her eyes, groaning at her ceiling. Yet another oddly realistic dream that she can only remember patches of upon waking.





	she's got eyes comparable to sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> title from gym class heroes' cupid's chokehold which god fits this ship well

“It's too dangerous! I need you to do this.” 

He signs, “She will find out one day, and the side effects of such a concealment-” 

“Will it hurt Clary?”

“No, but the bond-”

“I don't care about the damn bond!” she shouts, closing her eyes. “You have heard the stories of vampires draining their mates, I beg you. I will pay you anything, I just need my baby safe.”

Magnus's eyes flicker, “You already know who her soulmate is.”

Jocelyn nods.

.

Clary opens her eyes, groaning at her ceiling. Yet another oddly realistic dream that she can only remember patches of upon waking. There was unnatural fire and cat eyes and- dammit, the rest has already slipped from her. 

Shaking the thoughts away, she gets dressed and goes downstairs. Today is her birthday and she isn’t letting a pesky not-quite remembered reoccurring dream mess with it. Maureen and Simon are waiting for her with Mom and Luke and Dot. They made pancakes with chocolate chip grins, and they all eagerly dig into breakfast. 

Clary always thought Simon or Maureen, or even both, would be her soulmate, but their marks came early and hers didn’t. She decided then she was one of the Bare, it wasn’t the worst fate and there couldn’t possibly be a match for her soul if it wasn’t her best friends. The three did nearly everything together, were even all applying to the same set of colleges. Which, speaking of, she has an art interview to prep for. 

.

“Ready for a wild night on the town?” Maureen teases as they walk into Pandemonium. It’s one of the few places that’s notoriously bad about checking identification and still somehow hasn’t gone out of business- or been shut down. 

“Oh yeah, I’m wearing my dancing boots,” Clary says. 

“Like that- holy shit Fray, your tat came in!” Simon exclaims. 

“What? Where?” 

“On your shoulder blade,” Simon says, and Maureen adds, “it’s just peeking past your tank.” 

She turns and twists, not quite able to make it out. “What is it?” 

Simon gulps, “They’re uh, they’re fangs. Something you wanna tell us?” 

“Ooh, kinky,” Maureen says. 

Using her other hand, Clary shifts her shoulder to be able to finally see the mark. “Huh. I have no clue.” 

“Maybe you’ll meet over an injury?” Maureen tries, clearly not believing her own words. 

Soulmarks were always representative of a relationship, usually either the common grounds or glue. Her three parents each have a shield on their ankles for being protective, and Maureen and Simon have matching treble clefs behind their ears. That fangs showed up on her skin has her more than a little freaked out, not that her friends need to know that. 

“Probably,” she agrees. “Let’s get drinks.” 

Clary knows her friends are only letting it go because it’s her birthday, but she can just as easily freak out over this tomorrow. Tonight she’s having fun. 

.

Some time later finds her, Simon and Maureen all dancing like idiots on the floor, carefree and happy. Whenever she twists a little too much, she remembers the mark, and gets another drink. It’s one of those times she’s approached by a gorgeous brunette, pretty enough to make her head spin. (Happy Birthday to me indeed, she thinks as the woman sits beside her.)

“Allow me to buy you a drink,” she greets, with such confidence she doesn’t seem real. 

An awkward giggle passes Clary’s lips, “Sure, if you can get the bartender over here-”

And just like that the bartender who had ignored Clary’s raised fingers and meaningful looks is in front of them. 

“Good evening Ms. Belcourt, what can I get you?” 

“An old fashioned bloody mary and…?”

The woman turns to her expectantly, Clary flushed as she orders, “Sangria please.” 

He leaves, and Clary isn’t convinced she isn’t dreaming, everything too smooth, too curious. 

“Should I call you Ms. Belcourt as well?” Clary asks. 

She grins, pointed canines flashing, “Camille my dear, I’ve been waiting for you.”


End file.
